I meet two friends for dinner tonight and because I was early and starving, I ordered myself some calamari and grabbed a stack of papers from my purse to grade. Our waitress took a gander at my work and asserted that I was a teacher; she inquired as to what level I taught. I gave her a paper and asked her to guess on handwriting alone.
Second grade?
Eighth.
REALLY?
And then all of the typical follow-up questions transpired when someone discovers that I teach middle school -- lots of why questions and I receive attributes akin to a warrior: brave, courageous, strong. When I answered her incredulous tone towards my career choice with the fact that I'm so happy teaching at this grade level, the looks of admiration quickly turn to concern. I've traded my armor for a straight jacket.
Dinner was lovely, the company divine. There's a huge comfort in being with people that I've known for a long time, not as much work, just real conversation -- no inhibitions or reservations. I've never taken that for granted.
Plus -- I was out on a school night -- that never happens! :)
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